Pork Chop Whitey

I spent a lot of time in the car today running various errands here and there. My XM radio always has a station for whichever mood I may be in, and today it was Bluesville Channel 74. Lots of good old blues by the legends John Lee Hooker, Mud Cat, Howlin' Wolf, Muddy Waters, etc. kept my spirits well in the very bottom of the deepest dumpster. Some say country music will make you want to throw yourself (screaming) off a cliff into a river filled with saltwater crocodiles, but the blues...damn those blues...will suck you in and spit you back out and leave you a gooey mess on the floor, sucking your thumb, calling for mommy. Of course to snap myself out of it (and pay attention to the road) I started thinking about Savannah, Charleston, and every other little backwater town along the southern east coast that I had visited and mingled in with the culture. Along with that I began to decide that I (we) need to make a trip one day and hit some of the big BLUES cities, and frequent some of the off the beaten path less touristy blues bars. I long to hear the strings being stretched in person, along with the sweet wail of the harmonica and the twinkling pounding of the piano keys.